Time is of the Essence
by Emstein97
Summary: After weeks of non-stop fighting, Adrienne Walker is left to confronted consequences of her recent actions.


**A/N:** Just a short one-shot about my OC. If you wish to know more about my OC, Adrienne Walker, check out her tag on my Tumblr blog to get more insight into her and her personality. I intend to create a full-length profile for her in the future, but for now, the tag will have to do.

This fic takes place sometime during season 3 before the second confrontation with the Master. It should also be noted, that Adrienne is already pre-established into the group at this point.

* * *

In an attempt to steady her trembling hands, Adrienne gripped the rim of the porcelain sink, her eyes glued to the bloody carnage beneath her. She had overdone it; she knew that, but by this much? Phasing Quinlan and herself shouldn't have wreaked this much havoc on her body. It was getting worse. And fast.

Her stomach sank. "I'm running out of time."

The air left her lungs as the helplessness of her impending fate crept even deeper into her bones. Deeper than it had ever been before. How did she let it get this bad?

She chuckled lightly, but the sound was empty. Hollow. "It's because I'm a glutton for punishment."

A week … a week was all it took for her to push herself well beyond her means. It was astounding how it had taken such a short amount of time to get her to this point. But in all honesty, what else was she to expect? Her powers weren't designed for such frequent use.

But what other choice did she have? Strigoi now littered the streets in hordes, making it near impossible to maneuver without the need of her abilities. Her powers had given the group an edge. An edge they had lacked until she had arrived.

She had to use her powers. There was no other choice in the matter. If she hadn't used her powers all those times, she and other members of their little Frankenstein group would be dead now. But still … all it had done was make her weak. A liability.

Her jaw twitched. It was sickening to think of herself in those terms. The last thing she wanted, no, needed to be was dead-weight. Everyone had a part to play. So they all had to be at the top of their game, including her. If not most especially her, since she was the one with blood that could kill the Strigoi.

The tips of her fingers whitened as she tightened her grip around the edges of the counter. Her lack of forethought was more than a little surprising. She had known better, was even taught better, yet she pushed herself anyway. And now … now she was paying for it.

A half-hearted smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Desperation's a funny thing, she thought to herself, it can make even the most cautious people reckless.

She let out an exacerbated sigh and looked up into the mirror before her. What she saw reflected back did not surprise her, yet it still managed to set her teeth on edge. Never once had she seen her skin so pale and lifeless. But the state of her complexion was a minor difference when compared to the crimson streaks that lined the insides of her lips.

An audible curse fell from her lips. It was far worse than she had imagined. No longer did she look like a normal, healthy, human being. But a bloodthirsty vampire that had just fed.

Her tongue slid absently across her bottom lip, in a subconscious attempt to rid herself of the only evidence that could give her away. And though the taste of blood was familiar to her, it still took a bit of effort not to let it overwhelm her.

Dark eyes went alight with anger. "Why now? Why—" she bit down on her bottom lip then. Desperate to hold back the one question she swore she would never ask.

Why me?

Those words were like acid to her. An acid that only people with a lack of accountability would spit. Her whole body shook at the very prospect of having even uttered a fraction of that sentence. Every inch of her felt like it was on a razor's edge. And she hated it. Fear might have been a familiar emotion to her, but it was an unwelcome one.

There is no place for fear in a Chosen's life. That was what Ezra had once told her. And he was right. Fear had no place in her life. She gave up the right to feel fear long ago.

The tender flesh of her lip slid from her teeth, bruised and bloodied from her abuse. "All power comes at a price," she murmured, "And this is my price."

Her words were blunt but true. She had come too far to turn back now. They all had. Not to mention, her vague fear of death meant nothing when compared to the actual death of thousands.

"Coughing up blood is a small price to pay, I guess." She glanced back down at the sink. "At least when compared to the alternative, anyway."

The vice-like grip she had on the sink loosened as the fight left her. There was nothing she could do now. But trudge onward into a future she wasn't even sure she wanted to be a part of anymore. She couldn't give up. Not now. Not ever.

Another drawn-out sigh left her as she pushed off from the sink. An action she quickly regretted when the room began to spin. She grabbed hold of the countertop and steadied herself. Was this what she was going to have to contend with for the rest of her days? Tuberculosis was bad enough, but vertigo too!

She groaned at the possibility and reached to turn on the water, but stalled for a moment, committing the gore to memory. In hopes that it would serve as a reminder to be more careful in the future. She couldn't afford another slip-up like this.

Only when each detail stood stark in her memory, did she relent and turn on the water. Her gaze was empty as she watched all remnants of her illness fade away. It was unnerving how the sink looked no different from when she had first entered the bathroom. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

How unnerving, she thought with a twinge of bitterness.

With a gentle shake of her head, she forced the impending thoughts back into the recesses of her mind. Refusing to entertain them any longer than she already had. Such dark thoughts served no purpose other than to halt her actions.

Her eyes danced across the small expanse of the countertop. In search of a small paper cup that she and Fet used when brushing their teeth. But oddly enough the cup was nowhere to be found.

Naturally.

She rolled her eyes. The mystery of the 'missing' cup would have to be solved later. For now, she would just have to do it the old-fashioned way. The good ole make a cup with your hands and hope for the best way.

A small smile crossed her features as she cupped her palms beneath the faucet. Slowly, she brought the liquid up to her lips and took a few greedy swigs before refilling her palms once more. This time, however, she took only one shallow sip and swished it about her cheeks. She allowed the water to soak into every crevice of her mouth before spitting the blood infused liquid back into the sink.

The remaining water fell from her palms as she moved to ghost her hands along the feverish flesh of her cheeks. An audible groan escaped her lips as a newfound relief flooded her being. She had no idea that her face had gotten so hot throughout this endeavor. Just another symptom to add to her growing list, she supposed.

For a moment she just stood there with her head lolled back and hands sprawled across her face. Simply basking in what little relief she could find in this God-forsaken place. She knew this small amount of peace was only temporary. A slight reprieve before the horrors of the outside world invaded her mind once more.

This peaceful numbness was familiar, welcome, and far better than the acute awareness she seemed to possess when it came to the world around her. A deep breath left her as she mentally prepared herself for the world that lay just beyond this room. A cold, dark, world that seemed to hold nothing but death and gore now.

It was times like these that she thought most especially of her family. And how it had been far too long since she had last heard from them. But she had to trust that they were safe. She also had to trust that Eric and the others were safe as well. Being as she hadn't heard from them since before she had come to New York.

She let out a shaky breath, "I wonder if they are fairing any better?"

The urge to talk to them was profound, but to even attempt to contact any of them was dangerous. It was impossible to know where the Master had ears and where he didn't. And besides, even if she did know, it would be horrifically selfish to put them at such a risk.

Her hands fell from her face as her dark gaze leveled with her reflection. It was time to return to the real world, though she dreaded it immensely. Her gaze fell once more to her now spotless, yet chapped, lips.

With a slight hum, her right forefinger came up to touch her bottom lip. The pad of her finger slid haphazardly across the neglected flesh, smoothing out the pieces that stood up. Adrienne couldn't help but think of all the times she took advantage of having chapstick whenever she pleased.

A set of knuckles rapped gently against the bathroom door, "Adrienne? "

Adrienne jumped at the sudden lack of silence and looked towards the door, giving it the deadliest glare she could muster. Her mouth opened to tell whoever it was that she'd be out in a moment but stopped when a familiar presence began to tickle the back of her neck. It was Quinlan, but how had she not sensed his presence until now? Usually, she could sense him from a few yards away, as with every Strigoi, but this time she didn't know it was him until he was right up on her.

The corners of her mouth quirked up, mildly humored by the thought that she had grown so used to the Born's presence that she no longer took notice of it.

"Are you alright?" he inquired further.

Adrienne cocked a brow at that. Was it just her imagination, or did Quinlan sound almost concerned about her well-being? Dumbstruck by the vampire's seeming concerns, she could only utter a "Yeah," as her gaze quickly swept across the sink, "I'm fine. "

Before she could think better of it, she reached for the handle of the door. However, instead of opening it, she squeezed the bronze colored handle and spared a glance up towards the mirror. What shown back was less than adequate, but there was nothing more she could do about her appearance. She would just have to learn to embrace this new ramshackle look that came with the end of the world.

She slowly shook her head at her half-hearted attempt at humor and forced a smile to spread across her features. It was lackluster at best, but she had to admit that it still looked rather genuine considering their current situation. Hopefully, it would be enough to dampen Quinlan's concerns. She couldn't risk his or anyone else's suspicions.


End file.
